Chapter 22: Where She Is Now
It was dark and quiet on this side of town. Usually at midnight not a soul roamed the streets, for it wasn’t a particularly pleasant place to live. Broken streetlights flickered weakly, and old signs on storefronts creaked eerily in the breeze. One didn’t want to find themself alone in this specific town of Southern Virginia. No one but one particular girl.
She walked calmly, for she felt too empty to care if anything happened to her. If she got jumped, so be it. Shot, so be it. At least then she would feel something.
This girl wore her special black converse and dark blue skinny jeans, a black blouse and a cross necklace. The necklace gave her shreds of hope when she felt like she was lost wandering, and nothing was going to turn out okay.
She was looking for answers, and she wasn’t leaving until she found them. She wanted the truth, because she knew too much about lying and the time for lies was over. She wanted the truth, and nothing but it.
Memory claimed she stop beside a seemingly abandoned shake. She did so, taking in everything all at once, not missing a single detail. The rotting wood, the broken steps, the missing sign. A few windows on the front were broken, some panes dented or stained, but for some reason it spoke to her. It spoke to this mysterious girl of about seventeen and goaded her to come nearer. She hesitantly took one step on the broken first step, hearing it moan and groan beneath her. She didn’t care if she was heard, but she doubted there was even one person in this ghost town.
The girl jumped over the remainder of the steps, landing on the moldy front porch. Her left foot broke through the wood and she gasped slightly, calm, gently pulling her foot out. She backed up carefully to the front door and pressed her palms against in. She didn’t expect it to swing open behind her, and when it did she stumbled back in surprise. A creepy shack in a creepy town, it was so fitting.
She peered inside the dark two-story building, not even daring to speak or call out. She didn’t much like noise. Silence gave her so much more comfort, so much more room to think freely for herself.
The girl found herself wandering aimlessly around the lower level of the enigmatic building, not entirely sure what she was looking for, but knowing she would find something. She didn’t know how she knew she would, she just did.
She found a bookshelf and strayed over to it. It was dusty and sent her into a coughing fit, but in between gasps and with tears tracking her face from the stinging dust and mold, she brushed off the dust particles and glanced at the spines. Of the titles she could read, there weren’t many she knew. Then there were history books and encyclopedias and biographies and, she noticed, classics. It jolted her back to a town miles and miles and miles from where she was, in a different state, somewhere she knew eventually she had to return. It reminded her of an Aunt who maybe loved her and a soon-to-be uncle who would learn to love her. It reminded her of a boy who was part of the reason she left, because he kissed her and she knew he probably wasn’t thinking at the moment. Still, it confused her so and she didn’t understand his actions, which led her to believe she really should leave, even if just for a little bit, to find out more about herself, or at least remember who she was before everything fell apart.
The girl remembered a project from a school on a day that seemed like a lifetime ago. She knew her partner was probably already finished with it, and she had yet to find a classic. But nothing fit him, and she knew there was so much more to him he never told her.
And yet she revealed so much to him.
In a way, she contemplated to herself, she supposed it helped her heal. Talking with another being who felt near as much as she did was comforting, and even when he shouted at her or gave her that worried look, he understood. And that meant so much.
But she was still hurting. And it was that kind of hurt that didn’t go away with time. It just didn’t.
The girl was lost within herself when a loud thud echoed throughout the lower level. She froze, wide-eyed, scared. She didn’t think there would be anybody in this house, and if there was, she didn’t think they’d be living.
She heard the slow strike of a match and the quiet sizzle of a small fire. And then she witnessed the glowing embers heat up behind her, shedding light upon the dark and somber room. She swallowed hard and clenched her hands into fists, wincing, still hurting from the night weeks ago she beat herself to a point she couldn’t move.
Obviously the person behind her wasn’t going to say anything, so the girl turned around and immediately locked eyes with him. He was old, maybe seventy, but still looked like he could run a mile. His graying hair was combed neatly back and he was wrapped in a soft red robe and donning furry black slippers on his feet. He held a candle in one hand with a matchbox and the blackened match from earlier in the golden tray. He looked at the girl strangely; as one would look at a relative they should know but had never seen before.
“Who are you?” he asked suddenly, causing the girl to inhale sharply and take a step backward, feeling the bookcase at her back. She felt claustrophobic and trapped all of a sudden, with the main source of light coming from a weird man in a comfy-looking robe ten feet away.
“W-why do you ask?” She managed to choke out, hating the quake in her voice.
The old man chuckled. His voice wasn’t scratchy, like she expected it to be, but just low, even, and deep. “Well, you are intruding in my home, and you added another hole to my front porch. I’d just like to know what a beautiful young girl like you is doing around here.
She blushed at his compliment, but shook it off. She couldn’t get sidetracked. “I’m looking for answers.”
"Answers to what?”
“My life.”
He continued to look at her oddly. “I still don’t understand why you’re in here. As in, this particular house.”
The girl swallowed hard, knowing it wasn't any use hiding. "I know you."
"Do you, now?"
His smile was secretive, knowing, bespeaking knowledge the girl couldn't even begin to comprehend. "Yes."
The old man tilted his head back and looked down on her. He gestured his hand for her to follow him. “Come with me.”
“So, you really are my grandfather?” The girl asked for the tenth time, just to make sure. “I actually have another living relative?”
The old man nodded. “Indeed. I’m just shocked to see you here. Weren’t you in---” His eyes widened when he thought of it. “My god! Did you come here all by yourself?”
The girl nodded sheepishly.
“Well, it’s a good thing I decided to move down here when I heard you were sent to live with your Aunt Clara. You would have had quite the trek to Philadelphia.”
“I suppose, but, I don’t think I would have gone that far.”
“And why not?”
“I don’t know. I wanted to find you. I was looking for you. This would have always been my first and last stop."
The old man smiled affectionately “Ha! You are so like your mother and so like your grandmother. Why, you have no idea! Oh, how I miss them.” He trailed off for a couple moments, but cleared his throat and returned his attention to the girl. “Now, I do believe you haven’t told me your name. My daughter did mention before that she had a daughter, but believe it or not she never told me her name.”
“Jemma,” the girl said quietly. “Jemma Loraine Knight.”
The girl’s grandfather smiled. “Jemma, huh? What a beautiful name for quite a beautiful young lady.” He patted her cheek.
“Grandpa . . ."
"Yes, dear?"
"When I heard that my father died--"
“John is gone, also? Oh, you poor thing!”
The girl nodded. “When I heard he was dead, I needed to know why. Why did he leave and why didn’t he want me and why didn’t he love me?”
The girl’s grandfather stared at his granddaughter a long time before answering. “You know,” he began, “wanting someone and loving someone can be two totally different things.”
“How so?”
“He could love you---and have an undying love for you, at that---but not want you. Now, he could want you for whatever reasons and not love you. Maybe it was too hard for him to decide so he just chose the third option. He didn’t want you, he didn’t love you, he didn’t want anything to do with you.”
The girl sniffled. “Thanks, Grandpa, that sure makes me feel better.”
He held up his hands defensively. “Hey, this is the first time I’ve met you. I’m a little nervous too, you know.”
She patted his hand. “Don’t be. It’s just me. Just Jemma. I need more help than you, trust me.”
“Oh yeah?”
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Alright. Then, I have some advice for you.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I see your problem, and I can tell people have tried to help you but couldn’t.” He clasped her hand with both of his. “I want you to go back to where you came from, and I want you to think everything you’ve been thinking about for the last few months over in your head, because I can tell it’s a lot. Then I want you to decide whether or not you need to stay in that town to feel happy, or leave, because either choice could change your life. But you have the power to decide that.
“Now, listen closely when I tell you this. There is one person out there who not just wants you and not just loves you, but one who loves and wants you, and wants and loves you. You just have to find that person. But I want you thinking about your decision carefully, because, often these people are closing then we think. Do you understand?”
Her head was spinning a little, but yes, she understood. She stood up from the table and nodded in thanks. “Thank you so much, Grandpa, and please, if you ever get a chance, come visit. I’d like to get to know you more.”
He winked at her and smiled. “We’ll see.”